Eulogy for the Forsaken
by Thalione
Summary: When a young woman from Winhill runs off to Esthar, she winds up within the arms of an opressive assasin agency. No longer an employee, but an object.
1. Broken Flowers

Note…I don't own anything except for Gabby! Heh...and the made up cooperation…..Anyway, this only an introduction, so please don't flame too terribly. More will come! Thanks for reading. ------------------------------

The echo of the water droplets smashing against the walls of tile seemed almost comforting to Gabriella, as she lied there under its heated touch. The systematic way the drops fell onto her skin gave the illusion of control, and of serenity as the sound throbbed along with her dim heartbeat.

A low moan escaped her lips, as she tilted her head up to watch the beads of blood and of water mingle and dance on the porcelain surface. The wounds always seemed numb here, as did the severity of her life. Forcing her battered body into a sitting poison, the young woman's hand came to her temples. Applying gentle pressure to the tender spot, she tried in vain to rid herself of the oncoming migraine. Watching the explosions of colours on the fair skin, a ruptured smile graced her face. The several bruises blossoming on her body were surrounded by a sickly white, which bled into a deep red from the heated water.

Tracing a fingertip along one's pattern, she came to a quiet conclusion. They looked like flowers. Flowers on a broken woman's body. The childlike thought of pretending gave her such a jolt; she feared she was passing out once more. The flowers of broken blood vessels always grew in colour and in size, before wilting away. As for being a woman, the already too mature 17 year old shook her head.

Wincing quietly as she drew her legs in towards her, and leaned a single cheek on her burning knee. Retreating now from the savage droplets, hazel-green eyes stared at the peeling wallpaper just adjacent of her. This place was falling apart. One would think, the leader of a multi-million dollar underground assassination agency would have enough to replace the wall paper. Obviously such trivial thoughts didn't seem important in his mind, and like her, the wallpaper was left decaying and unnoticed.

The humid air further calmed her breathing, as the gasps of breath had died away. She prayed to Hyne that her ribs were only bruised, as the discolored patches spread above her stomach. Contemplating the damage, she surveyed her body carefully. A light graze upon her face told her that her left cheek was still swollen. Bending her body back into a half lying position, she counted the flowers. 18. Why she counted she never quite knew; perhaps it gave her more habits to cling to. Good dependable habits that kept her sane in this dungeon. Her shins and upper right thigh had the most obvious bruises, as her arms were decorated with scratches and the imprints of large hands.

Shuddering lightly as the memory of the evening bled into her mind, Gabby tilted her head back. Peeling away the waist length curtain of wet hair, she let a trembled coughing sound fly through her lips. Unnoticed under the cacophonous sound of the shower, another shook her chest. It wasn't until she held her face in her hands that she understood, she was weeping.

Things had not always been this way. Closing off all thought had allowed her to survive in this place, but now as it rushed back thanks to a simple childish thought, nostalgia wrapped her body in hopelessness. A piece of property, not an employee. This had been the norm for the girl. She did not sell her body, nor her love; but spilt the blood of those she was told to.

Practiced skill with her blades allowed her body to remain her own, though every time that innocent blood spilt onto her hands, her heart shattered. Here in the bowels of Esthar, the young woman remained in the power of one of the most horrendous and feared cooperation's

Faintly, under the powerful gaze of the showerhead, Gabby willed herself to die there. The image of her bloated body floating there almost gave her shivers of delight, as her eyes closed for a moment before reopening. The possibilities smashing before her disrupted mind, her hands clamored to the ledge of the tub.

The very throb of her heartbeat echoed within her ears, tormenting her with terrible images and empty promises. A defeated gaze fell upon her wrists, as she plunged the broken razor deep within them. The heated blood pooled from both wrists, as she gingerly took turns ripping the tendons deep within the flesh.

Blanketed within her blood, the young woman's eyes fluttered closed. Still under the terrible gaze of the showerhead, she dropped into a numb and thoughtless darkness.

Even as the frantic screams and curses filled the small room hours later, she did not stir.

But escaping was never easy was it?

Next chapter- Soon------


	2. Anesthetic Touches

It wasn't until the thick scent of cigar disrupted her strange dreams, that Gabriella even realized she was alive. Mingling with the sterile air, the cologne and cigar smothered her in their entirety.

"My daughter." Came the cool explanatory tone, as muffled voices of nurses and doctors inquired and interrogated the man before her. "An abusive relationship I'm afraid…when he passed she didn't know what to do with herself. We found here there in the shower half dead."

She swore that moments later, when he had stroked her cheek paternally, it must have left an acid residue. Lies, lies and more lies. She was acutely aware now, of the crisp sheets, the sunlight that dappled through the window, and the burning embarrassment that he had seen her.

One by one, the creatures of the hospital left her and the man, satisfied with his reasonable answers. This happened all the time in the darker streets of Esthar. Nothing they hadn't seen before, though it was rather unusual that her guardian seemed so well off. However, just as any decent citizen, they didn't look into it any further. Only when they had left did Gabriella make the mistake of opening her eyes.

Damien Manus looked down at her with a cruel scowl, eyes demanding not an explanation but repayment. The rage hollowed within the grayish eyes made him seem younger, though he was a man of 35. Life had treated him well, with an angular face that many deemed handsome, strong cheek bones and a smooth visage.

He had a sturdy build, neither lean nor large; he was simply built. Thick black hair was in a stylish cut, shaving years of the man's appearance. Wordlessly, he snatched up her left hand, and turned it over to watch the scar tissue gently ebb away, as the I.V in her opposite hand kept pumping high potions into her blood stream. With her blood so excellently reforming, she would be home in the evening, the doctors had promised the man.

Damien was obviously not her guardian, though he liked to think of himself as such. Having taken her of the streets 3 years ago, this young woman became one of the greatest assassins he had ever found. But then again, when given the right inspiration, anyone could kill.

They simply put her in the situations, and told her to kill. It was simple and inexpensive. With his instructions, and training some of his officers provided, these people became very efficient in the art of death. Having noticed the clever intelligence in the girl, he poured his assets into her favor, and she repaid them with every life she took. However, this sort of employment is never simple.

It was a nightmare. Gabriella Thalione Meleficare. The assassin.

"If you ever make me go through that again, you unappreciative bitch, I will kill you myself." Came the curt reply, as the girl just under him almost hissed. Seeing the change in her demeanor, he almost grinned. "Oh Thali, Thali, Thali." He murmured almost affectionately, looking down on her.

"I'm not your pet." She hissed back, teeth slightly bared. In a moment, she felt the hot graze of his fingernails on her scalp as he grabbed a large portion of her hair. Pulling her body into a sitting position, he caused Gabby to yelp loudly and open her eyes wide with fear.

"You may not be now, but I will have you." Damien whispered into her ear, turning his head to let his breath trickle down her jaw line. A whimper fell from her lips, as her eyes fell to the floor. She was alive, but for how long?


	3. Some 9 till 5

When consciousness graced Gabriella again, the I.V from earlier had been ripped out, a hasty bandage barely covering the wound haphazardly taped to her hand. Her body was dressed, her hair painstakingly pulled back. Moving her arm, she was momentarily alarmed at the incredible weight it seemed to possess. With a ruptured moan, her lips gently fell agape. Pausing a moment to lick her dry, aching lips Gabriella tried a second time to activate her vocal cords. With one eye, then the other slowly opening, she could make out the blurriest of shapes.

Musing silently, her vision seemed to dance – almost blizzard like. It reminded her of a rather extravagant Blizzaga spell; with the shards of ice and snow swirling endlessly about. Now these snowy images held no wonder nor awe for her, merely indicating that the drugs used to sedate her was slowly being absorbed by her body. It took several minutes for her to recognize the roof of the van. Several more minutes to realize the grooves in the floor were pinching her exposed skin, and several more minutes for the redheaded girl to realize the entire vehicle had lurched to a stop. Gradually Gabriella began to feel her body, her legs bent unnaturally, shifted by traveling, and her arms splayed above her head. Unprepared for the doors to fly open, the girl winced as the harsh underground parking lights flooded the van.

A hiss emitting through her teeth, she was roughly silenced as her legs were torn out from under her, the girl's entire body following the strong movement, and landing seconds later on the rough concrete. Moaning and rolling onto her stomach, Gabriella slowly pushed herself to her knees. Resting there on her hands and knees, the girl couldn't resist the immediate and nonnegotiable urge to be sick. As her stomach forced out the bile containing medication after medication, out of the corner of her eye, she saw a single red silk handkerchief fall to the ground. And upon hearing _That_ voice, she nearly bit her bottom lip into bleeding.

"Clean her up and get her inside." Came the command before she saw those painstakingly shinny oxford's marching towards the entrance to the labyrinth of hallways and offices. As she felt the handkerchief touch her chin, she leveraged her weight onto one arm, the other snatching the fabric from the other man's hand. "By Hyne I can do it myself." She hissed, spiting harshly into the silk fabric, taking heed not to leave it in a condition where it could be reused. A small victory, but a victory in the least.

Using the side of the van to force her body into a balanceable, standing position, she dropped the red silk into the pile of bile, and stepped forcibly on it. "Bastard." Finding no solstice in the eyes of the man watching her, her gaze became directed immediately before her, her jaw line drifting upwards in a silent defiance of the blow to her pride.

She bit down on her jaw to keep her teeth from chattering. Forcing open the doors, similar bland white lights blared above her and her 'escort', the boring white wash walls leading only from one hallway to the next. It often took new employee's weeks to find their way around. Obviously, the man at her side was one of them. Rolling her eyes nearly to the back of her head, the redheaded girl snorted indignantly. "It's this way."

Now leading the man towards her own quarters, her hand gripped the railing to keep from slipping all the way down the steep cement steps. "Watch your step." She murmured, as she shoved the broken bottle away from the steps. Obviously there had been a brawl, and with another huff, it was also obvious that Gabriella was sore that she missed it.

Here on the bottom floor, the lights were significantly dimmer, as if someone had forgotten to replace 60 of the bulbs used to light the corridors. Some flickered on and off, never finding a happy medium, and the others either blared full blast, or not at all. And as her slender fingertips landed on the cool door knob of her room, a _light_ touch on the shoulder set her body into a momentary tremble. And the man's voice was almost sympathetic. "You really shouldn't make him that angry…It's a miracle you're not dead."

Refusing to qualify the statement with an answer, she merely shrugged the light hand off her body, tossing a petrifying glare over her shoulder. She decided then that she would give him 3 weeks, 4 days, in the evening – before he either mysteriously disappeared, or ran.

Slamming the door behind her, she flicked on the small switch on her right side. "Come on…" She whispered, as she heard the electricity humming above her, and the machine above her finally flickered to a dim light.

Locking the weak door behind her, the redhead quickly dove to her knees, her hands searching beneath the makeshift bed for something of immediate value. Grasping her hands about a roll of duct tape, the girl slid back into sitting position, sitting on her feet. Pausing there on the floor, Gabby saw the skittering of 3 cockroaches, and refused to open her eyes until the sound of their traveling had faded into a comfortable, a safe silence. Pulling herself up, she sat on the disheveled mattress. Picking up a small mirror from her bedside table, she surveyed the damages, and the new additions.

A scowl fell on her lips as she saw the curves in her body changing, becoming more woman like, developing into something Gabriella was not entirely ready to be. Not yet. Not here. She saw how they were treated, and what happened to them.

Finding the dog eared corner of the tape, a foul ripping sound enveloped the silence of the room as the sound of the sticky, duct tape like material was ripped from the roll. Slowly removing her shirt, the girl – more readily a young woman began the tediously long process of taping down the new growths on her chest. When she had bound her chest and placed the loose shirt over top of her again, it seemed that her age dwindled suddenly, loosing several years off her appearance. Stowing the material under her bed once more, she made sure it was not visible from the door.

Taking a second look in the mirror, she was suddenly very relieved. Running her fingertips along her hair, she realized that it had been tightly French braided, up and away from her face. The two braids from each side of her head were tightly woven, commingling into one long braid down her back. Vaguely wondering who had taken the time to style her hair, the redhead was greatly perplexed, and even more greatly troubled.

The images of some stranger with their fingers intertwined in her hair simply unsettled her.

Casting her eyes about the dingy room a second time, Gabriella realized that her clock had been removed. Strange…but she reasoned it had disappeared along with all her sharp objects. That stunt in the bathroom would not easily be forgotten, and certainly not ignored.

Kneeling on the floor, her hands searched along the splintering wood for two smooth spots. Placing both palms on them, she eased her shoulders squarely over top of them. Pushing her feet out, so they rested against the wall, she began to pass the time.

1 pushup

2 Pushups

3 Pushups

54 Pushups.

And so she would continue until the sweat rolled into her eyes, and stung her skin. With her stomach muscles quivering, she would lie on the ground, the sweat cooling and evaporating off her body. Then she would roll onto her back, and stare up at the flickering light, wondering how electricity worked, how that one bent nail on the upper left quadrant of the roof would always attract her attention, and how long it would be until she would take another life.

With every kill, Gabriella was hit with a strange sort of euphoria. That burst of adrenaline surged through her brain, making her sight waver, and for a moment – she felt a tingling along her arms and face. Watching the light leave their eyes, or the breath escape their lips, Gabriella felt almost empowered. She had no control over her own life, but in that last moment of her mark's existence, she controlled the entirety of their lives. She took it away.

As her eyes rolled up towards the light, she focused on the swells of intensity as it flickered back and forth from the dead. There would be darkness, then a burst of life, of light. Dozing back into a relaxed state of nothingness, Gabriella forgot the aching in her limbs, the sting of the cold air against her raw scraped skin, and the taste of her own bile on her lips. The weight of the silence and momentary darkness pressed down on her chest, smoothing across her in a smothering wave of release.

Before the incessant chirping of Sir William Tell exploded through the silence.

Fumbling towards the dresser, she found her cell phone. Clicking the talk button, she merely held it to her ear. The voice on the other line wasted no time on pleasantries.

"Meet me in the weapon shed and we will go over your briefing."

There was a pause before the voice continued.

"You got lucky on that one Thali…I wouldn't suggest trying it again."

The girl snorted before retorting back.

"Lucky? I wouldn't go as far to say that. After all I'm back here."

"For the love of Hyne girl, just get your ass out here, and lets go for a kill."

"Not like I have a choice."

"You know you love it baby, it'll make you feel better."

The voice sounded sincere in a sick sort of way, but was not dignified with a response. Clicking the phone shut, she tossed the phone down in disgust. But some where deep down, she craved that feeling of adrenaline. Clicking the door closed behind her as she darted down the darkening hallway, she savored the moment of stale air rushing past her ears, allowing one last day dream to cross before her eyes.

Where the peeling wall paper became stray branches off the trees, the moldy smelly carpet reeked of rainfall and fresh dirt, even on her pale face she could imagine the rays of sunshine cascading through the canopy of the trees, shadows and light over and over again, until she reached the stairs. Hesitating on the first step, Gabriella Thalione Meleficare began the climb towards the source of the phone call. It was time to go to work.


End file.
